Dark
by Mintermist
Summary: With the death of a killer, does that mean a new one is born? I don't feel like summarizing, so read and review, please and thank you.
1. Preface

**Author's Note: Hello, lovelies. I apologize for my apparently deceased-state from this site...I can't guarantee that it will improve until August at the latest. But, to my wonderful friends from the JATD fandom, I missed you. The problem why I can't update 'Ballad'? I'm on the wrong computer. Je m'excuse! But I figured I ought to write _something _for you. It verges on a bit of a dark theme. Oh well. I fought fought fought through writer's block to give you a preface and first chapter of a new story. I apologize for crappiness. I love you. Now I'm going to shut up. Cheers.**

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**PREFACE**

There was nothing more to do but run. Trees and earth, moss and rock...the splendour of nature was utterly lost on him, as his feet pounded frantically against the dry, hardpacked dirt, and sweat poured down his face. He could practically hear the coarse accents shouting their bloodlust, the cold iron _clang_ of crude weaponry, the sound of hooves thundering upon the ground in hot pursuit. He shuddered, pushing his legs faster and shoving aside his fear, ignoring the blistering burning that scorched his muscles.  
The rock seemed to rise on its own accord, sharp and unexpected in the thick underbrush of the woods surrounding Kippernium, and Gunther Breech swore violently as pain shot through his shins. The dry earth rose up to meet him, as he stumbled across the parched forest vegetation. Wincing, he glanced down to assess the pain, before dismissing it with an iron will.  
Because, hey...there'd be a hell of a lot more agony if he stopped moving now, he reasoned grimly.


	2. Chapter 1

GUNTHER

**Three Weeks Earlier**  
"_Gun_. _Ther_._ Breech_." Jane's voice shook with a fury to match Dragon's flame, each syllable more venomous than the last as she blazed out the castle gate towards the knight. "You slimy little maggot...how could you? How _could_ you?" Every muscle of the lithe redhead's frame seemed to quiver with anger, as her emerald eyes smouldered.

"I cannot imagine as to what you are referring to," Gunther drawled coldly, stretching his limbs out contentedly beneath the shade of a particularly lovely aspen tree. Soft summer grass brushed luxuriously against him, and his raven hair was glossy in the setting sunlight. "And it is 'Sir Gunther' now, might I remind you, Jane." He gazed at Jane with the detached countenance he had worn since his knighting two weeks past, his slate grey eyes presenting an impenetrable rock wall, and she scowled, coming to stand beside him.

"You know perfectly well as to what I was referring," the squire snapped, her corona of flaming hair blowing about her face in the breeze. _It is a shame, really_, Gunther thought wearisomely, staring blankly up at Jane as she began her tirade of disapproval, _that such a pretty girl should be so very disagreeable._

At seventeen, Jane was flame; vibrant, bright, and rather unpredictable. She had grown to be a beautiful handful, just as pushy and boastful as she had always been, quick-witted and skilled, and practically wed to the knight's code of conduct. He sighed, shaking off the old traces of envy he'd once harboured, as she finished her complaints. "...it was _not_ knightly, Gunther. Dishonourable, despicable, and vile."

He grunted in response, smothering his guilt, and turned his eyes to gaze upon the lake. Splashes of vibrant orange and brilliant hues of red and yellow were reflected from the setting sky, and around them, the birds sang their goodnights.

She was right, of course. She almost always was. Deep beneath his carefully practiced surface mask, his insides twisted with burning shame and annoyance. The irksome creature beside him always had a knack for doing the right thing. But...circumstance _had _made it easier for her, he had to admit. _She_ was not indebted to a contemptible man who masqueraded under the title of 'father.' No. She had loving parents who had supported her dreams– albeit, maybe unwillingly, at first, but nonetheless they had. She had a dragon as a best friend. She had friends she was willing to die for that felt the same about her. It was no wonder, no surprise to Gunther, that she could discern right and wrong so simply.

"Gunther? _Gun-_ther? Have you been listening to a single word I have said?" He shrugged.

"Just as any..." he muttered vaguely, his eyes fixed on the other bank of the lake. Jane bit her lip, her eyes tracing his strong profile. The grey eyes were distant, as they had been for weeks now, and it seemed that his countenance bore the weight of the world.

"Gunther, I...I know that he is your father...but, you cannot...you cannot give in to his demands when they harm—" Suddenly, his eyes blazed in anger, and he turned to face her as his expression smouldered.

"Jane, you know _nothing_ of what you speak. I _owe_ him." The vehemence in his voice was biting, unleashing a glimpse of nineteen years' conflicting emotions and lifting the mask momentarily; anger, pain, resentment...the desire to please, love, and be loved...

Silence fell on them, as familiar and as uncomfortable as always, and Jane took a seat on the grassy banks of the lake. It stretched and grew, unwavering with the medium of time. "No matter how I may resent and disagree with the foul git, he _is_ my father, Jane, and I owe him everything," he murmured softly, as if to assure both Jane and himself. "And besides...the man I was...sent to deal with...was the monster who had an attempt on the Princess' life." His eyes flashed dangerously, daring Jane to challenge him. "You cannot judge me there."

Jane shook her head sadly, sighing. "I do not deny that he was a monster...but...it was not right. He deserved a trial— properly, at that. You cannot live as your father's personal mercenary, used to kill his enemies."

"I have a duty to my father, Jane," Gunther snapped.

"You have a duty to the King and the Knight's Code before that!" Jane retaliated, fear clouding her eyes. "Good heavens, Gunther...do you not see that you have endangered yourself? The whole court is looking for you, and it is with mixed emotions that they do. A killer has been dispatched...but, this has created a new killer, which they fear." A crease appeared across her brow. "What if they ask me if I know? What if they ask _you_? Do you expect me to lie for you? Do you expect that _you_ must lie? Gunther..._you killed a man_."

"A threat," Gunther corrected. "And no, I do not expect you to lie. I will confess if need be..." he trailed off. "Now, I have had enough of such talk."

He rose abruptly.

"Good night, Jane."


End file.
